In one week, I’ll be 49 years old. Sometimes…no, make that all the time, that sounds older than I ever thought I’d get.
Do you remember those Disney World ads where the teacher asks the kids if they can figure out how old they’ll be in 2000? “You’ll be about my age,” she says, and one of the kids whispers how “We’ll be too old to do anything!” Then it shows a couple in their late 30’s/maybe early 40’s in Disney World having a ball.
Well, I remember being a kid and figuring out that I’d be 40 years old when the year 2000 rolled aorund and thinking “I’ll be almost dead!”
Here I am, one week shy of 49 and amazing, not almost dead, things have happened since I saw the year 2000 come in without the big disaster the Y2K bug advocates predicted.
I had a kidney transplant and am in better shape now than I was before, due to a YMCA membership.
We adopted a beautiful, smart and funny little boy who was only eight weeks old the first time we held him, but is now 5 years old and truly the light of our lives.
I published two of my novels, including the book of my heart, Attack of the Queen.
Through all of that, it’s hard to believe how old I am. I remember my mother, the day she turned 48, coming home from work (she was a registered nurse and day supervisor) and complaining about her age.
“You’re only a day older than you were yesterday,” my dad said.
“It sure looks different on paper.”
49 seems impossibly old. 45 hit me hard as did 40.
I don’t feel that old. I’ve never been one to lie about my age. I never quite got the hang of it. When do you start? How do you know what number to use? What about people who know better? It just seemed easier to me to be upfront about it. People always seem surprised, and that feels good, but I guess I’ve never understood the need for lying about it.
My husband told me once that I am “utterly without guile.” I guess that’s a good thing.
Anyway, if you aren’t doing anything next Tuesday, drop me a note saying hi. I don’t think I’ll be too old to respond!